The World Is Ugly
by iamdelilah
Summary: What if he wasn't who everyone saw him as and thought he was? What if the family was hiding a deep, dark secret from the past? Fourshot, rated T just to be safe.
1. Part 1

**A/N: This is a oneshot inspired by my avatar and by the fact that the age difference between J, K, and N is somewhat close, but the gap between Nick and Frankie is larger. Idk, call me twisted if you want. Enjoy & reply. =]

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_"Do you wanna?" fifteen-year-old Marshall asked through the darkness of his room. His hand was on Kevin's thigh and his hormones were running high._

_"I've never had sex before," Kevin replied oddly. He was on his back and his best friend straddled him._

_Their erections rubbed together as Marshall replied, "Me either. We can do it together, though. I mean, we're best friends and this can be sort of an experiment to see if we like it, you know?"_

_"But we're not lovers," Kevin said as he removed his boxers._

_"Does it matter?"_

_"Not really," the thirteen-year-old shrugged. He smiled and pulled Marshall down for another kiss._

The memory faded as Denise walked into the room. "Sweetie, the woman from the agency is here," she said dismally as she walked back into the space.

"I know," Kevin nodded, trying his hardest to hold back his almost-bursting emotions.

"And now it's time for us to say goodbye to Frankie..."

"No, I can't say goodbye," he insisted. "Mama, I can't let him go," thirteen-year-old Kevin Jonas II whimpered through tear-filled eyes. He had just endured seven hours of hard labor and was an emotional wreck, totally drained of any energy or motivation to do anything but admire his new infant. "He's my baby boy."

"Kevin, Honey, we talked about this," Denise replied, reaching down for her grandson. "He's going to a good home where adults can love and care for him like real parents should. He belongs with that beautiful couple out there, not a thirteen-year-old child. They want to adopt Frankie and we need to say goodbye."

"But I can't!" Kevin sobbed, throwing his head back as his possessive grip on the infant tightened. "I thought I wouldn't want this baby but I do! Mom, don't make me do this! Don't make me give him up, Mommy, please! I'll do chores for the rest of my life if I can just keep him!"

"Kevin, he's going."

"I can't say goodbye!" Kevin screamed. "Could you?! Could you do it?! Could you have given me or-or Joe or Nick up for adoption to total strangers?! It's too hard!"

"Mom," eleven-year-old Joseph Adam broke in, putting a hand on his mother's forearm. "Look at Kevin, he's so sad. Just him keep the baby."

Eight-year-old Nicholas sat nearby, simply indifferent to the family crisis going on three feet away from his Pacman game. He intently squinted at the tiny screen on his purple Game Boy Advance and his tongue incoherently poked out the side of his mouth in concentration.

Denise's husband was in the hospital chapel, praying for his thirteen-year-old's soul, asking God for forgiveness and to forget about the experimental sin Kevin II participated in. Paul also asked him to bless his new grandson with nurturing parents.

The short woman stood by her eldest boy's hospital bed with crossed arms. She hated seeing her son in pain during childbirth and she hated seeing him crying his heart out over a baby he wasn't supposed to keep or even want.

Kevin hiccuped and looked through glassy eyes at the newborn child resting in his embrace. He pressed his trembling lips to the offspring's forehead and blubbered out, "Fine, just take him."

Denise easily reached down, taking the delicate human from his cozy position and turned her back to Kevin. The broken boy put a hand over his face in a pathetic attempt to depress his hysteric sobs.

Joseph glared at his mother's back and hugged his suffering brother sympathetically. He rested his head on Kevin's shoulder and whispered, "It'll be okay, Kev. It really will."

Although the children were unaware, Denise heard Joe's compassionate words and glanced down at the baby once more. She still wasn't moving. She told herself to put one foot in front of the other but she just couldn't follow through with it. Slowly, she made her way back to Kevin's hospital bed and laid the baby down. "Nick, come here," she ordered.

"I'm playing a game," the immature eight-year-old retorted.

By then Kevin was hopelessly hugging his baby once more, hiccuping in an attempt to calm his nerves and cursing his hormones for making him so emotional.

"Get your butt over here," Joe barked quietly, reaching over and grabbing his younger brother's arm.

Nicholas whined but was ignored when he stood by his oldest sibling's bed side.

"Listen to me," Denise started after returning the baby to his previous position. She sighed, putting a hand behind Kevin's head and stroking his hair. "We're gonna keep him."

"Really?" the thirteen-year-old spoke up suddenly.

"Uh huh," his mother confirmed with a weak smile. A soft laugh followed when she realized how happy Kevin was.

"We can keep him?" Kevin gasped in disbelief.

"Yes but listen," she said sternly, nudging Nicholas' shoulder. "All of you. Kevin, you're going back to public school, do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

"Do you hear me?" Denise asked again as Kevin clung to his baby. "I'm going to raise Frankie as if he were my own. He's going to be my child. Do we understand and do you agree?"

"Yes," the three kids chorused in response.

Denise clasped her hands and turned to leave the room. "I'm going to tell your father."

Nick resumed his video game and Joe stood on the tips of his toes and leaned over to peer down at Kevin's child.

"Look, Frankie," the new parent cooed, smiling over at Joe briefly. "It's your uncle."

"Brother," Joe corrected him before returning the grin.

"Right," Kevin signed. "Do you wanna hold him?"

"Sure," the eleven-year-old nodded.

**_Eight years, thirty-one days, seventeen hours and nine seconds later..._**

The ever-so-famous Jonas Brothers as Kevin, twenty-one, Nick, sixteen, and Joe, nineteen, have come to be called, are heading onstage in a few minutes. They're in an arena that holds thirty thousand people in a city that's the fourth largest in the country. None of them really know how they ever made it here.

They're talking together right now, the entire family. Papa Jonas says the closing words and heads are lifted from prayer.

Coming out of the huddle, the younger two brothers turn their backs to Kevin. After making sure that no ignorant people can see them, the twenty-one-year-old kneels down, opening his arms for Frankie to walk in to.

The eight-year-old obliges before hugging Kevin's neck tight. "Good luck, Dad," he says into the elder's ear.

Kevin pulls back and kisses his child's cheek. "Thanks, Buddy," he replies. "And if anyone asks who you are you tell them-"

"I'm your brother," Frankie sighs out of habit. "I know, I know."

The twenty-one-year-old sighs sadly in return and fixes the child's hair momentarily before Joseph calls for him. "I gotta go," Kevin breathes.

"Okay," Frankie nods. He understands their relationship. He really and truly does but he just doesn't like it all that much.

"I love you," Kevin reminds his son with another kiss to his cheek.

"Love you too, Daddy," he smiles.

Joe rustles his nephew's hair before handing Kevin his guitar. Kevin takes a last look at his mother, father and son before following his younger brothers onto the stage.

--

The show is over and the boys are sweaty. Joe's arm is around Nick's neck and they're gabbing about how well the show went. Kevin's sweaty, trying to catch his breath and looking forward to a shower.

"You guys were great," Paul comments when the family meets up and heads towards the back exit.

Kevin doesn't stop walking as he bends down and scoops Frankie into his arms.

"You rocked, Daddy," the eight-year-old gushes happily.

"Yeah?" Kevin asks, laughing before pecking his son's nose.

Frankie nods and as the group is about to go public, the boy is put to his feet. They're preparing for 'brother mode' as the family likes to call it. They have to meet fans now and Kevin fakes a smile. He doesn't exactly enjoy this part of fame because it's so disgusting. He sucks it up, though, and keeps an eye on his child as he prepares to sign his name several hundred times.

--

It's almost two in the morning when Nick and Frankie are finally asleep. The other boys are still awake.

Joe is standing not too far from Kevin who's in the bunk area, kneeling at the side of Frankie's bed and staring at the sleeping figure. He looks completely lost.

Cautiously, the nineteen-year-old approaches his sibling and places a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Hey," he murmurs gently, careful not to wake his nephew. Kevin nods only to acknowledge his brother's words. "Is everything alright?" Joe wants to know.

"Oh, yeah," Kevin confirms. "I'm fine."

"You look so tired." The singer offers, "Wanna hit the hay?"

"Might as well," the twenty-one-year-old complies before standing upright.

Joe still sees some undefined need in Kevin's eyes, the need to be Frankie's daddy publicly and not just behind closed doors. He knows the twenty-one-year-old wants to stop the band, stop touring and settle down in a conservative home for just him and his little boy. Joe also knows that Kevin loves him too much to stop their careers, so he easily sets his hands on Kevin's shoulders, leans forward and places a gentle kiss on his mouth.

The older of the two brings his hand up before tracing the back of it down Joe's cheek.

"Night," Joe murmurs incoherently.

"G'night," Kevin whispers in response before climbing into his and Frankie's shared bunk. The curtains are closed, his breaths are even and he's a daddy once more.


	2. Part 2

The boys are at home in California now. The tour schedule has slowed down but they have a private radio show later in the evening. Last night was their first night at home in three months.

Kevin is lying in bed awake, staring at his lush red walls. His eyes wander to the night stand clock and he sees it's a decent hour to get up. It's nine thirty-two in the morning, so the guitarist rolls out of bed. When the warm bottoms of his feet meet with the cool tile on the floor, Kevin is just a little more alert. He stretches, black v-neck t-shirt raising just above the waist band of his Calvin Klein briefs.

With a yawn, Kevin opens the bedroom door, descends the hallway and makes his way down to the kitchen. There Joe is sitting with a breakfast consisting of Mini Wheats floating in a bowl of soy milk. A recent issue of SPIN is spread out in front of him on the marble top table. When he realizes Kevin is there, the shiny pages of the periodical semi-lose his attention.

"Morning," Kevin grins with a gorgeous smile. His eyes crinkle and a few loose curly fall onto his forehead before he ducks into the refrigerator and retrieves a bottle of water. He joins his brother at the table and opens his beverage before taking a sip of it.

Joe's free hand is set palm-up on the table as an open invitation for Kevin's touch. The guitarist's stomach grows warm with contentment as he sets his hand in his younger lover's and interlaces their fingers. Both are okay with the unspoken words and virgin-esque display of affection. With a content sigh, Kevin rubs his thumb over the side of Joe's index finger.

After maybe two minutes the singer is finished reading the album review and he leans over to peck Kevin's cheek. "Sorry," he admits embarrassingly when he focuses his attention to his older brother.

"That's okay," Kevin reassures him. "I know how you are when you read. We're the only ones up, hm?"

"No, actually," Joe informs him. "Mom is out picking new flowers with the gardener and Nick's on puppy duty at the park. Dad and Frankie are still asleep." Feet are heard slapping against the hard floor and the nineteen-year-old corrects himself, "I take that back."

The twenty-one-year-old retracts his hand from Joe's quickly and waits to see who it is coming down the hall. Another smile breaks when Kevin's little boy enters the kitchen. The father's arms are opened wide and Frankie enters them after crossing the kitchen. With a small grunt, Kevin hoists his son onto his lap.

"Dad," Frankie whines out, wriggling to get down.

"What?" his father replies innocently.

"I'm too old to be held on your lap."

"No you're not," Kevin argues and manages to kiss his child's face one time.

Joe sits back, elbow propped up on the table and his cheek resting on the palm of his hand. He giggles quietly because Kevin and Frankie are the sweetest father-and-son couple he's ever seen.

"Am too," Frankie retorts with crossed arms.

Ignoring the comment, Kevin asks, "Did you sleep well?"

"Mhm," the eight-year-old nods, giving in to his father's affection as he rests his head on Kevin's shoulder. "Better than on the bus," he adds, muttering.

Seeing Frankie like this, exhausted and tired all the time, frustrates Kevin so much. He hates the fact that they can't be like everyone else. Kevin knows; he knows how much Frank loves to play in the park, how Frankie loves to run with Nick and Elvis and how Frankie adores watching movies on the big screen with his grandpa and grandma. You can't do that on a tour bus, though, not all the time, and touring is taking a huge toll on the little boy.

Kevin wants Frankie to have a normal childhood, not one spent in a different city each day. Sure, maybe he gets to see the world and places he wouldn't get to visit otherwise. He doesn't have to go to public school and he can sleep until noon but he doesn't really have one real friend outside of his family. He has his grandma, grandpa, two uncles and his daddy but that's not all a little one needs to be happy. They also need consistency and the comfort of a bedroom that is always their own.

The guitarist is saddened when Frankie hops down from his lap and runs out of the room suddenly. Kevin then sees that Joe has finished his breakfast and the SPIN magazine is closed.

"You okay?" Joseph asks, putting a hand on Kevin's forearm as he stands up.

Kevin glances to his bottle of water that's perspiring on the kitchen table and then stares up into Joe's eyes. "I'm fine," he confirms.

The nineteen-year-old traces his fingertips down the side of Kevin's cheek and sighs sympathetically. He leans down and pecks his brother's dry lips before running a hand through Kevin's hair and muttering something about going to get dressed for the day.

Kevin's left alone, alone to think and remember.

_It's Christmas, around supper time, as the extended family members start to arrive at the Jonas household._

_Thirteen-year-old Kevin is sitting far-off from everyone, ashamed to bare his belly. He's in his mother's rocking chair with his new Game Boy propped up on his stomach. He's been playing the device so long that he doesn't remember that it uses a battery. It's only when the screen fades to black that he remembers._

_Kevin groans and puts the handheld on a nearby table before inhaling and then exhaling slowly. Then something moves; something moves inside of him. It happens again and his stomach, or something, feels tickled._

_"Mom!" Kevin screams, hands to his six-months-pregnant bump. "M-Mom, it's moving!"_

_Joe is the first one at his brother's side. "What?"_

_"Feel," the teenager gushes, pointing to the spot where he felt the baby inside of him kick._

_"Oh my gosh, Kevin, that's so cool! You can feel it!" Joe exclaims, removing his hand after a moment so he can retrieve their mother._

_Denise comes quickly and shoos Kevin's cousins away so that it's just the two of them. She doesn't know how to say this; she doesn't know how to tell Kevin not to get attached to the baby because he's going up for adoption. They've already decided that. She starts slowly, "Kevin, Sweetheart, don't forget that this baby is going to be leaving us as soon. Don't get too attached, okay?"_

_"Yeah," Kevin breaks in. "I just thought it was cool to feel him move..."_

The house's front door opens and the flashback washes away.

Denise looks flushed and scared as she enters the kitchen and plops a tabloid magazine down in front of her oldest son. "Kevin," she mumbles.

"What's wrong?" the guitarist counters. "Did something happen?" Mrs. Jonas flips to her desired page of the magazine and points to a picture of Kevin holding his little boy's hand. They're walking down a street, Frankie jogging to keep up with Kevin, and there is a total daddy-esque vibe coming from Kevin. "What about it?" the twenty-one-year-old asks.

"I think you should really step down from the father role you're trying to fill. Honey, I know that acting like Frankie is only your brother is hard but you need to back off, okay?" she questions gently. "I don't want anyone getting suspicious. If they find out your image along with your brothers' will be ruined."

Kevin abruptly pushes his chair back and stands up before leaving the room. How dare his mother order him around. How dare Denise try and tell Kevin not to be a father. She might as well just rip his heart out and step on it with a pair of Christian Louboutin stilettos. Kevin is running; running for an escape and running to comfort; running to Joe's room.

"Joe?" Kevin asks, pushing his brother's slightly-cracked bedroom door open and stepping in.

The nineteen-year-old male is shirtless and turns around when he hears his lover's distraught voice. "Kev," Joe breathes. "Kevin, what's the matter?"

"Mom wants me to leave Frankie alone," he croaks out. "S-She doesn't want me to be a daddy anymore," he blubbers in a surreal manner.

"Oh, Baby," Joe whispers compassionately, stepping in front of his brother and wrapping Kevin in his arms tightly.

--

It's about nine o'clock at night. The radio show went well and the boys are doing the meet and greet. Joe is sticking close to Kevin as usual, keeping a protective eye on him.

The twenty-one-year-old smiles at a shy fan that's receiving his autograph. He hands the little girl her t-shirt and waits for the next taker.

A fourteen-year-old approaches Kevin and the guitarist does the usual: asks for her name and asks if she liked the show.

"Kevin?" a male around his age speaks up after the fourteen-year-old leaves.

The twenty-one-year-old lifts his eyes slowly, only to meet the face of Frankie's second biological father. Kevin's Sharpie falls to the floor and he storms out of the room.

"Kevin!" Joe calls after him, rushing to the aid of his brother.

Marshall is behind Kevin, though, and he's keeping Joe away from his lover. Marshall takes his childhood friend's arm and stares into the guitarist's eyes, asking quietly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What are you talking about?" Kevin retorts nervously. But he knows, Kevin knows and but he doesn't show it. He knows this is about their little boy, Frankie.

The twenty-three-year-old pulls a folded picture out of his back pocket and opens it before displaying it in front of Kevin. It's the same photograph Denise showed her son this morning.

Kevin sees security coming but reassures them that Marshall is no harm. He seeks out his father and explains that he needs to be escorted home alone with Marshall. They need to talk, and they need to talk now.

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick note; Kevin never told Marshall about Frankie. You'll find out more in part three. =]**


	3. Part 3

The two young men are in the radio station dressing room now. Kevin is trembling and has no idea of what to tell Marshall. He doesn't know how to explain that because he got pregnant when he was thirteen, his family distanced themselves for eight or so months. He can't tell Marshall that Denise is raising Frankie as her son because Marshall might want to fight for custody of his little boy. Marshall already knows about Denise, though.

Kevin lets out a soft sigh and leads Marshall to a lounge area. He waits for Marshall to take a seat before asking, "Do you want a drink or something?"

Marshall shakes his head, straight brown hair swinging as he does so. He then questions again, "Why didn't you tell me?"

The twenty-one-year-old sits down on the couch before putting a hand over his face. "Please don't take him away..."

"I won't," Marshall reassures Kevin, putting a hand on the guitarist's back and rubbing gingerly. "I need- I want to know why you didn't make an attempt to tell me."

"My parents told me not to tell anyone," Kevin confesses as he feels a migraine approaching. "They pulled me out of school and my mom taught me. I wasn't even allowed to see my friends after I started showing."

"I don't care about you," Marshall almost snaps. "No- I mean I do, but I don't understand you not trying to contact me in your later years. And what's with this purity ring business? You're lying to the entire the world, Kevin. You're lying to your fans."

"No I'm not," Kevin argues offensively. He's telling Marshall the truth because after Kevin gave birth to Frankie, he asked for God's forgiveness at church on Sunday. And even though he and Joe are in a committed relationship, they haven't made love yet. Sure, when the time comes they will but at this moment in their lives they're coping with their feelings towards one another and focusing on their careers.

"Alright, well, you're lying when you say that Frankie is your brother."

"I know!" Kevin snarls suddenly. "I know that, Marshall!" He breaks now, burying his face completely with both palms as he begins to cry.

Marshall's emotions change from angry and disgruntled to sympathetic and compassionate. "Shh," he says soothingly, scooting closer to the twenty-one-year-old and putting his arm around the guitarist's sloped shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he mumbles, embarrassed.

"I know," Kevin blubbers. "It's just that lately I'm having trouble dealing with everything. This morning my mom told me to back off and- I don't know…" He wipes his eyes and, without thinking, he rests his head on Marshall's shoulder. "Ho-How did you know Frankie was ours?" he wants to know.

"He looks like you," Marshall confesses. "He has my eyes but he looks like you."

"But he'd look like me if he were my brother, wouldn't he?"

"I guess maybe- I just knew," the twenty-three-year-old stresses. "It was a parental instinct, I think. When my sister brought the magazine to me I just knew. You had this 'daddy' look in your eyes and- well, it's hard to explain. My sister asked 'Isn't that the kind you slept with?' and I said yeah… I guess she brought me into reality. Like, put the pieces of the puzzle together."

"Hm," Kevin hums with a nod. His eyebrows raise when he notices Marshall is staring at him. "What?" Kevin whispers, lifting his head so that their noses are almost touching.

The twenty-five-year-old leans forward, lips aiming for Kevin's but the guitarist moves quickly and turns his head. Because of that, Marshall's lips press against Kevin's cheek. Kevin licks his mouth awkwardly and his companion sighs.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I shouldn't-"

"It's okay," Kevin reassures him. He leaves out the fact that Marshall's kiss made butterflies flutter in his tummy.

"Can- Can I see him?"

"I don't know," Kevin mutters quietly. "My parents wouldn't-"

"Kevin, Frankie isn't their son," Marshall breaks in. "I'm not asking them for permission, I'm asking you.

"Fine," the guitarist agrees. "Fine, but just for a few minutes."

"Can I tell him who I am?"

With a second thought Kevin gives his answer. "No, not right now. Maybe... Maybe later on." Marshall silently nods as Kevin pulls his cell from his front left pocket. He makes a phone call to his father and asks him to bring Frankie to dressing room. Paul agrees and maybe six minutes later security personnel escort Frankie into the space.

"What'd you want me for?" the eight-year-old asks as he's heading in his daddy's direction. The two meet in the middle and embrace for a brief moment.

"Because I want you to meet someone," Kevin explains softly, taking his son's hand and guiding him to his ex-best friend. Kevin kneels down behind the eight-year-old and releases of his hand.

"Frankie, this is Marshall."

The twenty-three-year old breaks into a smile as he stares at the child. His heart is beating like mad and he can hear his pulse in his ears. He adores the semi-curly hair that resembles Kevin's, the shining brown eyes and his tiny little hands. "Hi, Honey," Marshall gushes as his parental instinct bursts through. He immediately reaches forward, taking the eight-year-old's hands.

"Daddy," Frankie whines, frightened at the older man's actions. He pulls away from Marshall and clings to Kevin, who's still kneeling down.

Marshall is crushed, his eyes cast downward and he wants to cry.

Kevin hugs his little boy briefly before saying, "It's okay."

"How are you?" the twenty-three-year-old asks.

"Dad, who is that?" Frankie whispers into his father's ear.

"His name is Marshall," Kevin says again. "He's… one of my friends."

The next ten minutes go by like this. It's just casual talk and Frankie's daddy continues standing behind the eight-year-old to keep him feeling secure and safe.

"Kev, Mom-" Joe starts as he blatantly bursts into the room. He stopped because he sees Marshall and knows exactly who the young man is. And suddenly he's furious. He wants to rip the twenty-three-year-old's head off for impregnating Kevin when he was thirteen. He then wants to reach through Marshall's neck and grab his heart, pull it out and throw it against the wall because of what happened to Kevin. Because of Marshall, Kevin got pregnant and because Kevin got pregnant Frankie was going to be given away but because they didn't give Frankie up for adoption, Joe has to stand by and watch his lover suffer every day. Kevin suffers because he can't even be honest with himself anymore.

"I'll be there in a second, 'kay?" Kevin responds, locking eyes with his sibling.

"No, I- I'll just go," Marshall stutters, standing and walking towards the exit at which Joe is standing at. "Um, bye guys," he states quietly. He avoids the singer's glare and waves to Kevin and Frankie before finding his way past security and out of the building.

"Ready to go?" Kevin asks his little boy.

Frankie nods and the two of them along with Joe follow Big Rob to meet up with the rest of the family.

--

The boys are home now. Frankie has been tucked in while Denise and Paul have decided to retire early. Well, it's not early but they figure that ten o'clock at night is a nice bedtime. His eyes close and he's lost in thought. Kevin, Joe and Nick are seated at the small table inside the kitchen, discussing random things and having a late dinner.

Nick and Joe are bickering over what their next album cover should look like and Kevin is lazily picking at the pepperoni on his slice of pizza. His head is resting in his left hand and his eyes are fixed on the plate beneath him. He can't help but feel horrible about what happened with Marshall earlier. Kevin thinks that maybe he and Marshall should have talked a few times before trying to introduce him to Frankie. He thinks that maybe he should have made an effort to go find Marshall and tell him at some point so that the twenty-three-year-old didn't have to find out through a tabloid photo. With a deep sigh, he takes a bite of the combination of bread, tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni.

By the time the guitarist is done eating Nick has been done for thirty minutes. Joe has been sitting by Kevin this whole time but the twenty-one-year-old is so tired he didn't notice.

Reaching over, Joseph puts his hand on Kevin's shoulder. He squeezes gently and asks in an almost-whisper, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kevin replies softly.

"Are you sure?" the singer asks with an amusement. "You look kind of lost..." Yawning, the twenty-one-year-old stretches his arms upward into the air before refocusing his gaze on Joe and keeping it there. The nineteen-year-old giggles blushingly and questions, "What?"

"You're pretty cute," the guitarist retorts, feeling quite flirtatious. Kevin reaches out, grabbing Joe's wrist and bringing his hand to his mouth. The twenty-one-year-old's lips begin pressing into Joseph's skin and makes a trail of kisses to the teenager's wrist.

"Kevin," Joe snaps, trying to pull his hand back. He loves the attention but is scared that maybe their mother, father or Nick will walk in on them. He's let free and stands up, motioning for his lover to follow.

The couple heads up to the second floor of their house and into Kevin's bedroom where the older brother is pushed against the wall. Joe's lips attack his fast at first, but the kiss grows sweeter and more heartfelt as Kevin pulls the nineteen-year-old into his embrace and holds him tight.

The lip lock lasts maybe two more minutes until breaths are needed (more than just the little puffs let out through nostrils). The singer rests his head against Kevin's chest and allows himself to be hugged.

After a while, the couple head to Kevin's bed where they plan to sleep together. They have an alarm set for early morning and previously locked Joe's room with a key from the outside. They're safe tonight. They're away from fans and free from publicity.

As Kevin spoons Joe against his front, the older male closes his eyes and begins to dream.

It's Christmastime again. Kevin is fourteen years old now. As usual, his extended family is over at the Jonas household for dinner. Only this year Kevin isn't engrossed in some videogame world. He's settled on the couch with his nine-month-old baby boy in his arms. Kevin is smiling like he's never smiled before because for the first time since he's given birth, he's holding Frankie. He's engrossed, totally infatuated by the tiny human in his embrace.

The baby is bundled in an outfit made of soft red and green plaid-patterned flannel. There's an adorable red and white Santa hat adorning the infant's head and Frankie is smiling at Kevin.

The teenager grins and kisses his child's nose, earning a giggle from the baby in return. Kevin then places his fingers on Frankie's stomach and wiggles them wildly. When he does this, the nine-month-old erupts into a fit of laughter. With a sigh of contentment, the fourteen-year-old is still smiling. He traces his fingertip down the side of his baby's soft, squishy cheek and Frankie takes the pointer into his mouth, sucking gently as he kicks his feet with joy. "Mom," Kevin calls out. "Mom, I think Frankie's hungry!" Minutes go by and Denise doesn't appear. Kevin hears the family chattering away in the kitchen and after a while he finally gets up to get the bottle himself. With Frankie on his hip, the middle school boy makes his way into the eatery. "Mom, the baby-"

"Kevin, what are you doing? I told you to put him down for a nap!" Denise snaps as she's beside Paul who's carving the turkey. She's turned now and her arms are crossed as she's glaring at her oldest son. "You've had him this whole time?"

The fourteen-year-old stutters, "I-I wanted to-"

"Sweetheart, I know you wanted to Frankie but I needed you to put him to sleep," Denise says, softening when she sees Kevin's heartbroken expression.

"Sorry," the fourteen-year-old whispers, eyes cast downward and he's feeling embarrassed about his mother's outburst in front of his other aunts, uncles and cousins. He turns now, tears trickling down his face as he goes to his 'brother's' nursery.

"Kevin," Joe says loudly, bringing the older boy into the real world. "Honey, wake up."

"Hm?" Kevin responds with delirium.

"You were whimpering," his lover replies. "Were you dreaming?"

"Yeah."

"What about?" Joe wants to know.

After a second Kevin admits, "Christmas when I was fourteen…"

"Oh," Joe whispers brokenheartedly. "I remember that. You were so sad..."

The guitarist snuggles closer to his partner and kisses his forehead. "I know what I have to do," he whispers. Kevin is sure of his decision but he figures it can wait until tomorrow.


	4. Part 4

Kevin wakes up early and Joe is still beside him, tucked under the warm covers and snuggled close to his body. The guitarist smiles, brings his hand up from Joe's hip and brushes the singer's bangs from his closed eyes. He then slips out from beneath the thick comforter, puts his feet to the floor and exits the room with grace. He lands in the kitchen minutes later with a cup of coffee and a slice of toast.

No one else is up, and this gives Kevin time to think. He's wondering how to tell his mother what he's decided to do, and he's deciding how to word the statement to his fans. Maybe he can just say 'Hi, I'm Frankie's father' or 'Hi, I'm Kevin Jonas I had sex when I was thirteen'. No, those don't make much sense. He figures that he'll just let the words come to him.

Denise enters the kitchen not long after, having heard Kevin wake up not too long ago, and gives her son a tired smile. "Morning," she says, dragging her slipper-clad feet across the tile floor.

"There's coffee," Kevin replies, voice quiet and sweet. "Want me to make you a cup?"

"No thanks, Honey," his mother answers. "I can get it myself."

The twenty-one-year-old nods and bites his bottom lip softly. Then he admits, "Mom, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure you can," she nods. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

"I..." the guitarist trails off. He tries again. "Mom, I think it's time for me to really _be_ Frankie's dad. I want to quit the band and start a normal life with him."

"A normal life?" comes Denise's delayed response. "Are you talking about telling the world that Frankie is your son?"

"Yeah," Kevin admits with a shrug. "I talked to Joe about it and he-"

"You talked to your brothers?" Denise breaks in.

"Would you just listen to me?" the boy wants to know. "God, you never let me finish what I have to say!"

"Finish," Denise snaps, tossing her mixing spoon in the sink. "I'm listening."

"I want everyone to know the truth about Frankie," Kevin admits. "I don't think he likes living this way, either. I think he needs to be a bit more stable. And, I mean, I might not even have to quit the music thing. Either way I think I could use it to my advantage, you know? Like, maybe I could say 'Hey, I made the mistake once and this is what happened' and actually _teach_ kids something."

"Kevin, you're twenty-one," his mother retorts. "What do you know about being a parent?"

Kevin's hands are pushed into his face aggregately. "It's not about being a parent!" he groans. "It's about doing what's best for me and my little boy! It's about giving him the life _he_ needs, the life that best for him and the one that benefits _him_!"

Denise mimics her son, dropping her head and sighing deeply. "I'm just trying to protect you," she mutters emotionally. "Kevin, society is _brutal_ and you have no business trying to be a single parent while you're in the spotlight like this. That'll be ten times harder than living a lie."

"Mom, I'm twenty-one. Let me find these things out on my own," Kevin pleas, reaching out and setting a hand on top of his mother's. "I'm an adult now and I can make my own decisions."

"I'm just trying to protect you," Denise whispers again, bringing her eyes up to meet her eldest child's.

"I know," the guitarist replies, scooting his chair over and bringing his arms around his mom's shoulders. He squeezes gently, saying, "That's your job, just like it's mine to protect Frankie."

"You really want to do this?" Denise asks, pulling back and making eye contact.

The musician confirms confidently, "I do."

With a short nod, Kevin's mother replies, "We can have a meeting with everyone tonight, okay? You just... go get your statement ready for the publicist."

Kevin agrees, but then he tells himself that he'll announce everything on their MySpace page.

--

"How are you gonna word it?" Nick asks as he's hanging out in his oldest brother's room. He's on Kevin's bed, lying upside down and his cell phone is in his hands. Joe is in his lover's dish chair, paying more attention and secretly wanting to be sitting on Kevin's lap or standing behind him with his arms around Kevin's neck.

"I don't know," the twenty-one-year-old shrugs, hands hovering idly over his laptop's keyboard. "I thought it'd be easier to type but it's actually really hard."

"What if you started with saying something about the purity rings," Joe suggests. He stands up before waltzing over to Kevin's computer chair. He leans over his brother, arms coming around the older boy's neck and he types the first sentence.

_As all of you know, the three of us have pledged to stay pure until marriage._

Slowly, Kevin nods and his thoughts burst into action just as his fingers do. He gently shoves Joe away and begins to type.

_I, however, have not remained pure._

Eight years ago when I was thirteen, I engaged in premarital sex. I was with my best friend at the time and neither of us really thought about the consequences that would come after everything. Six weeks later, though, I went to the doctor with a mysterious illness. Little did I know, I had a baby growing inside of me.

Needless to say, my parents weren't happy with me. They didn't know where they had gone wrong, and I kept telling them that I was sorry, and that 'everyone was doing it'. They weren't convinced, though, and within two weeks of finding out about the pregnancy I was told that the baby would be put up for adoption.

Those nine months went by so fast and the day came. I went to the hospital early in the morning on September 28, and twelve hours later Franklin Nathaniel Jonas was born. I remembered being in awe of my son and thinking how delicate and breakable he must have been. Every time I glanced down at him in my arms, lying in the hospital bed, my heart would break a little more.

When it came time to give my baby up, I just couldn't. My mom, Denise, came into the room and ripped him from my arms. I lost it after that. I cried so, so hard and begged her not to take him. Joe took my side, too, and told our mother that I was so sad and that she should let me keep Frankie. I guess it's those words that set it in stone for all of us because after my brother said that, Mom couldn't move. She couldn't continue walking towards the door with Frankie and instead turned to come back to me. She said we were going to keep him, but he would be raised as my brother.

So, basically what I'm saying is that Frankie is actually my son. I'm also hoping that you guys, as fans, can learn from my story and support my decision to take my position as Frankie's dad, not his brother. I guess I should probably sum this up now so, um, later!

Love, K2

After reading it, Kevin _knows_ it's perfect. He checks it once for typos and doesn't even run it by his brothers before exposing himself to the MySpace world.

"I'm trembling," the guitarist says once the bulletin is posted. He lifts his hand from the finger pad and he breathes out shakily. "Wow, that-"

"What'd it say?" Nick demands, getting up and standing behind Kevin as well.

The guitarist stands up, shakes his head with a soft chuckle and leaves Nick to read the statement. Joe follows his older brother and goes into the living room where his family along with Big Rob, Garbo and Jack are gathered. Paul got as many people together as he could. They're planning on figuring out what to do with the group.

With a confident smile, Kevin spots an empty sofa and takes a seat on it. Frankie, who was sitting in his grandfather's lap, rushes to his daddy and is pulled into the twenty-one-year-old's arms. Joe takes a seat beside them and the meeting begins even though Nick isn't here yet.

"How'd you put it?" Garbo wants to know.

"Short, sweet and to the point," Kevin admits, putting his arms around Frankie's midsection and squeezing lovingly.

"D-Dad, you're hurting me," he chokes out jokingly, causing Joe to stare admiringly at Kevin and his child.

Nick comes into the room seconds later, asking quietly, "So, what're we gonna do?"

Garbo, Joe and Jack look to Kevin, who feels like he's gotten caught in the head lights.

"I-I don't know," the guitarist admits. "What do you think?" Kevin asks, looking over Frankie's shoulder and into his adorable face.

"What do you mean?" Frankie counters, quirking his left eyebrow.

"About the band," Kevin clarifies. "You want a normal life, don't you? You want to go to school and have friends like everyone else, right?"

The eight-year-old pauses before putting a hand on Kevin's arm and turning around. "Well... I guess I kind of don't care about school. And on the bus I have a cool place just for me. I have Grandma and Grandpa with me all the time, and I have you and Uncle Nick and Uncle Joey, so I'm not as lonely as you think."

"But I want you to tell me what you want," Kevin insists. "Do you wanna live a normal life with me, or do you want-"

"Well, I don't want you to have to give up your dream," he admits quietly before turning around in Kevin's arms completely. He leans into his father's chest, delicate arms circling his neck as he hugs him tight.

Kevin's eyes are forming tears and he can't stop them because God, it just feels so right to hold Frankie like this. "You don't want me to give up my dream?" the guitarist asks, whispering. "But I thought-"

Frankie nods. "You're a rock star, Daddy. Why would I care?" A soft, soft cry is emitted from Kevin's mouth as he clutches his child tighter. "Are you crying?" Frankie asks in disbelief. "D-Dad, don't be sad. Why are you crying?"

The twenty-one-year-old pulls away before wiping his tears. "It's good. It's good crying," he clarifies with a sweet smile. "I'm not sad."

"Good," Frankie says, grinning in return.

Meanwhile, the entire rest of the room is melting into separate piles of goo. Joe's eyes are transfixed on his older brother and he thinks they both know what's going to happen tonight. Tonight's the night for them.

"So, you're not quitting?" Nick is anxious to know.

"No," Kevin answers.

"But if we're still together, then your bulletin was pointless," he goes on to argue.

"No, Nick, it wasn't," Kevin snaps. "The fans deserved to know the truth."

--

After the meeting that never really turned into a meeting, everyone went out to dinner. By the time the family got back home there were literally thousands of replies to Kevin's bulletin. It was also ten o'clock, and everyone but Kevin, Frank and Joe went to bed. Those three stayed up watching a movie. It just ended.

"It's late, Frank," Kevin comments softly before standing up and grabbing the remote. He hits the power button and the television goes blank. "Want me to tuck you in?"

The exhausted eight-year-old nods and is hoisted into Kevin's arms before being carried upstairs. He's laid in bed, covered with his favorite blanket and kissed on the forehead. "Night, Dad," he manages to whisper out before the light is turned off.

"Night," Kevin replies, smiling before closing Frankie's bedroom door.

As he's retiring to his own space, Kevin is met with a pleasant surprise. Joe is in his bedroom waiting. He takes his older brother by the hand and closes the door. The clicking lock is heard and Kevin is lead to the bed where he makes love to Joe for the first time.


End file.
